


A Love Better Forgotten

by rawr_anna



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 16:35:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4107670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rawr_anna/pseuds/rawr_anna





	A Love Better Forgotten

r hand shook as the she lifted the fork to her mouth. She had to eat something, she didn't want to attract suspicion. Not that her parents would do more than tell her to stop being so selfish, but she still didn't want them to realize. The first bite made it into her mouth and she felt like dying. Just then her phone went off, it was only an alarm but she pretended it was a phone call and shoved away from the table. Turning back, she grabbed her plate and made her way to her room. She threw the food away and spit out the bite in her trash. That had almost ruined it all. All those months of eating nothing but carrots, celery, and no-fat yogurt, it would have been for nothing. She dug a container of celery out of her mini-fridge and started eating that. That was safe, that could pass her lips. It wasn't full of disgusting calories and fat unlike the slop she had been served. She stuck her empty plate outside her door then locked it. Stripping off her clothes, all four thick, baggy layers, she walked to the middle of her room. The mirrors shone on every side, showing her all her flaws. The scars that her shorts barely revealed, the more recent cuts spanning from her hips to the top of her stomach, the ribs sticking out from under the sports bra, all of it she noticed. After surveying herself, she got out her pointe shoes. While she had quit ballet over a year ago when the first cut had appeared for fear of being found out, she still practiced on her own, determined to be the best she could be. The shoes pinched her feet even on flat, she never talked to her parents long enough to even ask for a new pair because she had outgrown them. On top of that, the box and tip of them were basically just superglue and shellac, and the shank she was constantly replacing with thin pieces of wood and cardboard. After tying them, she immediately stepped into a pique arabesque. Then she started laughing. She looked like a grotesque carnival attraction, her shoes barely held together and spray painted black, her legs thin and pale, her stomach covered in scars and cuts that were beginning to reopen from the strain of holding the arabesque, her ribs sticking out like razor blades, and her arms looked bones linked together. And she loved it.


End file.
